My aunt, who lived in Michigan, visited my family in Osaka, Japan, when I was 6 or 7 years old. I was so curious about her daughter, who was probably a teenager at the time.
She fascinated me because she spoke a language I had never heard, and her hair, eye color, and skin tone were much lighter than mine. Although my aunt spoke Japanese, she sounded a bit funny, and I didn’t know why. One day, we were staying at a hotel, and my aunt asked me to ask her daughter for the “Kagi” (Key) in Japanese. Then, she gently took my hand and said, “Open your palm, and say, “Kii” to her; she’ll understand what it is.” And she smiled. I was a bit nervous to take on such a huge responsibility, and that was my very first time speaking up to her daughter. I stood in front of her and did exactly what my aunt told me; I showed her my little palm and said, “Ki,” but it sounded almost like a whisper. She looked at me for a second but immediately understood and put the room key into my palm with a big smile on her face. That was the first time I realized that people speak different languages, that there are places other than Japan that I can only imagine what they look like, and that it was definitely my first “Culture Shock.” Then I remembered my aunt's story when I visited her in Michigan for her daughter’s wedding.
How she met her husband, who was an American Soldier while he was stationed in Japan after World War II. They got married and moved to the States. They had three children, but soon after, he was sent to Russia, got sick, and passed away a little after that. She didn't teach her kids the Japanese language out of fear that her kids would get teased and/or bullied when other kids found out that they were “Mixed Race,” especially with Japanese heritage, that the country that surrendered and lost the War. I often wonder how hard it was for her to live through that era in the States, facing racism, losing her husband, raising three children to be “American,” and protecting them from many obstacles that many immigrants had to face… How funny it is - our lives take us on our own journey… I met my husband 16-17 years after my “first culture shock” and moved to Colorado. I remember when I told my friends in Japan where in the States I was moving to, they had no idea where it was on the map back then. I also remember feeling so isolated when I first moved to Colorado. I felt like I was the only Japanese person who lived in Colorado. There were not many ways to network and get to know other Japanese people unless you were an exchange student and/or your husband was in the military, or a Japanese businessman who was sent to the States as the head office representative, and/or have a child and meet other Japanese people through school events. My husband and I didn’t fit into those categories, and I had to get used to this “isolation” for a while. One way to get to know other Japanese people was through food. I worked at a few different Japanese restaurants as a server and built a small network from there. One day, I served an elderly couple who often came to the restaurant. I can’t remember how the conversation went, but she asked me if I was a citizen of the United States, and I told her, “Not yet.” She asked me if I was considering being a citizen, and if so, “Be proud to be a Japanese American. We still have much work to do for our next generations.” I went back and forth about getting citizenship for a long time and finally decided to take the citizenship test in 2015. But at first, when I made the decision, I felt guilty. I felt like I was throwing away my nationality and/or betraying my hometown. But the thought was completely gone when I passed the citizen test and attended the ceremony. Then President Barak Obama was on a big TV screen, welcoming all the new citizens of the United States with a warm smile; he made a heartwarming recorded “Congratulations” message.
At the end of his speech, he said, “Since our founding, generations of immigrants have come to this country full of hope for a brighter future, and they have made sacrifices to pass that legacy on to their children and grandchildren. This is the price and the promise of citizenship. You are now part of this precious history, and you inspire those who will come after you.” I was thinking of what the elderly couple said to me that day: “Be proud to be a Japanese American. We still have much work to do for our next generations.” Of course, I also remembered my aunt’s strong will and spirit to live in an unknown country and raise three happy, healthy, and bright children. I’m no way near those pioneers who stood strong, resisted and fought racism, kept hope high, and built a better future for the next generation. But someday, I hope I’ll be someone else’s part of history by introducing Asian Food with my husband, Chef Aric... . . . .
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Since Chef Aric lived in Japan for seven years, he has adored and respected Japanese cuisine. Many times, he creates delicious “When West meets East " dishes! One example is his Miso Glazed Grilled Pork Chop with Grilled Shiitake Mushrooms, Japanese Eggplants, Bok Choy, and Steamed Rice.
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